Fragmentation
by Catmint
Summary: A Cursed Child what-if story. Things didn't end so well; things went wrong. Horribly, tragically wrong. And the price of that is one family shattered beyond repair.
1. Part 1

I saw Cursed Child on Feb 15th and it was utterly fantastic; I can see why it's won so many awards. Every cast member was amazing, the scenery and costumes stunning, the choreography excellent… Utterly fantastic. My husband isn't particularly into HP and he absolutely loved it (partly, I think, because his background is in theatre and performance). I do still have a few quibbles with certain elements of the plot, but I was able to put that aside. I can't remember the exact tones and movements of the actors so for the opening scene I'm relying on my memory and assumptions.

I've chosen to write in the present tense because it feels more immediate and more appropriate for a fic based on a play script. The first scene and the first two sentences of the second in this fic are taken directly from CC.

I don't want to get into a debate over whether or not CC is canon, or plot flaws, or anything like that.

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*Significant spoilers for Cursed Child, so if you don't want to know anything about it, don't read this fic!*

This fic stems from an idea I had of "What if things went differently? What if things went wrong?"

 **Disclaimer:** Not my characters; all are the property of JK Rowling and Jack Thorne.

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 **Fragmentation**

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

"You think you're stronger than me?" Delphi demands of Harry.

"No. I'm not," replies Harry, all his attention focused on the young woman he knows he needs to stop, and soon. He knows he has to keep Delphi engaged, her attention focused on him and away from whatever Albus may be up to, and he hopes that his younger son will be sensible. They need those doors open, and quickly. Harry and Delphi exchange rapid wandfire, violent and urgent. He catches movement and flashes out of the corner of his eye, maintaining his focus but relaxing a little. "But we are," he adds as Albus finally manages to open the doors of St Jerome's church. "I've never fought alone, you see. And I never will."

Bursting through the doors, Hermione rushes in, followed closely by Ron, Ginny and Draco, Scorpius bringing up the rear. The next few minutes are chaotic and confusing as they support Harry, the multi-coloured flashes and bangs of many different spells flying back and forth; Harry cannot allow himself to lose focus even for a second, but is confident in the knowledge that he has the backup of the others.

Eventually, hopelessly outnumbered, there is a final series of bangs and Delphi lets out a groan of "No… No…" as she tumbles to the stone floor of the church.

Instantly, Hermione is there, with an emphatic, " _Brachiabindo!_ " and Delphi is bound. Defeated, she does not struggle against the ropes binding her. Harry approaches, not taking his eyes off her, while the others stay back, not trusting her abilities despite the restraints around her. "Albus, are you okay?"

"Yes, Dad, I'm okay," comes the reply from behind him.

"Ginny, has he been injured? I need to know he's safe…"

"He insisted," Ginny informs him. "He was the only one small enough to crawl through the grate. I tried to stop him."

"Just tell me he's okay."

"I'm fine, Dad. I promise." Albus sounds unhurt.

Unable to check, but reassured by the strength in his son's voice, Harry advances towards Delphi, his wand unwaveringly trained on the captive. His anger is barely under control; he can feel it bubbling just below the surface, ready to explode if she even considers trying anything wandlessly. "A lot of people have tried to hurt me – but my son! You dare hurt my son!"

"I only wanted to know my father," Delphi says, tone part-wheedling, part-sulky.

Harry pauses, taken by surprise. "You can't remake your life. You'll always be an orphan. That never leaves you." How often has he, in the past, wanted to remake his life? To have grown up in the wizarding world, knowing his parents, to have never had to live with the Dursleys? He wonders if he can ever make her understand that it simply isn't possible.

"Just let me – see him."

Harry is cold and firm. "I can't and I won't."

Delphi drops her head, and when she speaks, her voice is pathetic, pitiful. "Then kill me."

Oh, how tempting it is! It would certainly solve a lot of issues – guaranteeing that she would be unable to speak to Voldemort, whose arrival here must now be imminent, preventing any potential future breakout from Azkaban, preventing the possibility of her being found less than guilty… But that isn't the answer. "I can't do that, either…"

"What?" Albus sounds shocked, horrified. "Dad? She's dangerous."

Harry shakes his head. "No, Albus…" The difference between what is easy and what is right. Sometimes he hates it.

"But she's a murderer – I've seen her murder –"

Now Harry risks taking his eyes off the prisoner, turning to look at his son and then his wife. "Yes. Albus, she's a murderer, and we're not."

"We have to be better than them," adds Hermione.

Ron nods his assent. "Yeah, it's annoying but it's what we learnt."

Desperate, Delphi pleads, "Take my mind. Take my memory. Make me forget who I am."

"No," Ron tells her firmly. "We'll take you back to our time."

"And you'll go to Azkaban. Same as your mother," puts in Hermione. There is no mercy or compassion in her voice.

"Where you'll rot," spits out Draco.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

The next few minutes are chaotic. Voldemort arrives and, despite the protests of his friends, Harry insists on lingering, needing to see the moment his life changed forever, the moment he still sees whenever Dementors draw too near, and his friends stand with him as he clutches Ginny and Albus tightly to him. When it is over, before there is any chance of anyone spotting them, they return to their own time, and Harry's knees give out as he drops to the ground, relief and exhaustion coursing through him. It's _over_. Delphi, bound, gagged and unconscious, is with them, Hermione and Ron both training their wands on her just in case. Ginny and Albus stand over Harry and Draco is slightly behind them, Scorpius in his arms.

Ron lets out an audible sigh of relief. "We did it. We stopped her, stopped _him_. And now we're back in our world and everyone's safe and it's all okay again."

"No it's not." Draco's quiet voice cracks on the last word, and everyone turns to look at him.

Ron rolls his eyes. "Look, Malfoy, I get that none of that was easy, but we've come through unscathed –"

"Not all of us."

Harry feels cold dread settle in his stomach as he sets eyes on the limp figure in Draco's arms and notices the lack of colour in the other man's face. "What – what do you mean?"

But Draco does not answer, his eyes unfocused as he gazes off into the distance.

"Draco?" Hesitantly, Ginny approaches him and places a hand on his arm. It startles him and he whirls round, eyes wild. "Draco, what's wrong? Did she hurt Scorpius?"

"Then why are we standing here?" demands Albus, panicked. "We need to take him to St Mungo's! _Now_!"

Eyes hardening, Draco shakes his head. "There's no point." His voice is empty, emotionless, cold.

Harry feels the dread begin to spread throughout his body. "What do you mean?"

"It was chaotic. She must have hit him without any of us realising."

"Hit him…?" The blood drains from Ginny's face and she reaches out a shaky hand to Scorpius's wrist. It is cool and still. "You mean…?"

Draco gives a curt nod, and when he speaks, his voice is devoid of any emotion. "She murdered him. My son, the only family I had left, is dead."

The hustle and bustle of Godric's Hollow fades into the background, not penetrating their little group. Harry shakes his head. "He can't be. He's just unconscious, he's got to be."

"You don't think I checked?" snaps Draco, anger flaring in his eyes.

"Let me." Before the other man can stop him, Harry steps forward and puts two fingers to Scorpius's neck, praying that he will feel something, _anything_. But as the seconds tick by and no pulse reaches his fingers, he feels his hope draining away, and after nearly a minute he drops his hand and steps back, shaking his head. "It – it's no good. I'm sorry. You're right."

" _No_!" cries Albus, eyes wide. "He can't be! He _can't_ be!"

White-faced, Ginny pulls her son into her arms, pressing his face to her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Albus. I'm _so_ sorry." She holds him tightly, despite his struggles, and she murmurs soothing sounds to him.

"We need to get to the Ministry," says Hermione decisively. "Ron, I need your assistance."

"What about us?" asks Harry, looking back and forth between his wife and son, Hermione, and Draco, the latter of whom has not moved and has resumed gazing off into the distance, statuesque and face impassive.

"You and Draco should bring Scorpius with us to the Ministry; I'll send for a Healer to confirm the death. Ginny, I think you and Albus should come, too. I have a Portkey that will take us directly to my office. Everyone ready?" When they nod, she draws a scrap of fabric from her robe pocket and holds it out to them. "It will activate when I tap it with my wand." Once they are all grasping it, she does so and moments later the group lands in her office. Albus, still clutched to his mother, stumbles, and Harry has to step aside to avoid being knocked over by Delphi's unconscious form. The next few minutes are hectic, with Hermione sending a Patronus to St Mungo's, Harry doing the same to McGonagall, Ron briefly disappearing to fetch some Aurors to deal with Delphi and Ginny holding Albus back. Draco leans against the bookcase; when Harry suggests lying Scorpius on the sofa he grips his son's body more tightly to him, shaking his head and lips pressed together in a thin line.

The fire flares up as the headmistress of Hogwarts emerges, face white. "How did it go? Harry, your Patronus just said something terrible has happened…" Her gaze lands on Delphi and her face hardens. "Is that her? Is this the one behind this whole fiasco? The one who killed poor young Mr Bowker?"

"Not just him." Draco's taut voice cuts through the room.

McGonagall frowns in confusion, then turns to look at the limp teenager in his father's arms. "What do you mean? Draco?"

"She killed Scorpius!" Albus bursts out. He lets out a howl of despair and allows his mother to pull him into her arms; Harry is quick to join them.

McGonagall swallows hard. "She killed…? Oh, Draco…"

The fire flares again and a woman aged about forty, wearing the trademark lime-green Healer robes, emerges. Hermione greets her with a handshake. "Thank you for coming, Lisa."

"No problem," replies Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw from their year. "What's the situation?"

"I need you to confirm a death."

The Healer's eyes immediately land on Delphi, but Hermione shakes her head and gestures towards Draco, who remains inscrutable. Lisa cautiously approaches. "May I?" she asks, wand ready. After a moment Draco nods; Lisa takes a deep breath. "I need you to put him down so I can cast the necessary spells; if you're holding him, your own life signs interfere."

Draco does not move, does not appear to have even heard her. It is only when McGonagall places a hand on his arm that he reacts, and he does as Lisa has requested. He is reluctant to completely relinquish the physical connection with Scorpius; it requires both McGonagall and Harry to persuade him to let go of his son's hand. From the contact he makes with the other man, Harry now realises that Draco's entire body is shaking minutely from the effort of maintaining his composure and dignity, and his heart breaks for him. He has known so much tragedy in the last eighteen months, and it seems grossly unfair to Harry that Draco should lose his only child, especially so soon after losing the woman he loved so much. He watches as Lisa casts the spells, desperately hoping she will tell them that it was a mistake, that Scorpius is merely unconscious.

But Lisa gets to her feet with that terrible pity in her face, the pity Harry saw so many times in the immediate aftermath of the war, and shakes her head. "I'm so sorry; there's nothing I can do. He's gone. It was the Killing Curse." She takes a roll of parchment out of her pocket and begins filling out a death certificate. Draco silently watches her, and does not look away even when four Aurors hurry into the office, barely stopping to knock. In a whirl of activity, Hermione briefs them and then Delphi has gone, taken to Azkaban, with the promise of statements from all involved. At some point Albus begins sobbing, and Harry and Ginny focus their attention on him.

Lisa finishes her work, duplicates the certificate and hands one to Draco, who silently takes it. "I'm sorry," she says again. He does not respond; Hermione tells her not to take it personally. She nods and turns back to Draco. "I'm assuming you'll want to take the body home, as is tradition?" When he gives her a curt nod, she briefly places a hand on his arm before Hermione thanks her and dismisses her, and then she leaves through the fire. The office is silent apart from Albus's broken sobs. Ron slips his arms around his wife and McGonagall gazes sadly at her student's lifeless body.

Eventually, Draco straightens up, away from the bookcase. "If nobody has any objections, I would like to take my son home and begin preparations."

"Of course," replies Hermione.

"Please let us know if you want or need a hand. With _anything_ ," says Ginny.

Harry places a hand on Draco's shoulder. "You don't have to do this alone. You have friends."

The blond man gives no indication that he has heard, turning to McGonagall. "Minerva, I would appreciate it if you could keep the details of this from the school. They only need to know that he has…that he has gone. Not how, where, why or anything like that."

"Understood," the headmistress assures him. "I would like to attend the funeral."

He picks up Scorpius and without another word disappears through the Floo to Malfoy Manor. The others look at each other uncertainly. Hermione is the first to break the silence. "Do you think he'll be OK?"

"I'm honestly not sure," replies Ginny, "but if we try to interfere and push ourselves on him he'll just shut us out."

Reluctantly, Harry nods, knowing she is right. He just hopes Draco will turn to them.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*


	2. Part 2

Part 2

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The next eight days pass quickly. McGonagall informs the school of Scorpius's death that evening at dinner; Albus returns the next lunchtime, red-eyed and heartbroken, and shrugs off the sympathy he receives from the other students, bitterly reminding them that they didn't care about him while he was still alive. It culminates in him screaming at his cousin Rose, Ron and Hermione's daughter, in front of the entire school at dinner that it's too late now for her to apologise for perpetuating the rumour that Scorpius was Voldemort's son, that she is one of the reasons for him being such a social outcast. It is only his younger sister Lily's presence and comfort that he tolerates. A few people ask for details but he refuses to tell them, snaps that it's none of their business and it's too late now to pretend that they care. Lily sits with him at the Slytherin table during meals, and even James joins them some of the time. When Rose and a couple of other Gryffindors challenge her about it, she tells them at wand-point in no uncertain terms where they can go, and they leave her alone after that.

Hermione manages to keep the particulars of the Delphi incident under wraps, and the media speculation is minimal, for which everyone involved is relieved. Ginny and Harry do their best to support Draco, but he insists on doing everything alone, closing the Manor Floo and ignoring their owls.

The evening before the funeral, Harry picks Albus and Lily up from school and takes them both home. Even Lily is quiet, though she clings to her brother as much as possible. Albus does not cry, but he is silent and unresponsive, and flinches away from hugs and physical contact. Harry sees him to bed (Lily went an hour earlier) and then returns downstairs, where Ginny is curled up on the sofa, a book in her hand. "How is he?" she asks.

Harry shakes his head as he sits down next to her. "I don't know."

"You?"

"The same. What time are we leaving tomorrow?"

Ginny lays aside her book. "The service is at midday. I told Draco we'd be there at eleven."

"What did he say?"

"He didn't tell me not to."

"Did he actually reply?" When she gives him a look, he responds with a sad smile. "Of course not. Are any of his classmates coming?"

She shakes her head. "It's just us four, McGonagall, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Hannah and the rest of the teachers. And I think Madam Pomfrey and Pince. Not even Daphne's coming; I asked her yesterday when I saw her at the _Prophet_. Her own nephew."

Harry wants to cry. He remembers the funerals from after the war – Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey… They were all packed – family members, classmates, colleagues, the general public. He knows that this one will be the opposite. "It's not right."

"I know, love. I know."

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

As promised, the Potters Floo over to the Manor at eleven o'clock sharp. Draco meets them, head to toe in black and hair carefully braided as usual, but his eyes have dark circles under them and his hands tremble ever so slightly. He looks as though he has barely slept or eaten for the last week. "Thank you for attending," he says, his voice devoid of emotion. Harry suspects it is a front, to enable him to get through the day, but he can't help but shudder a little at the deadness in Draco's eyes.

"Can we do anything to help?" asks Ginny.

"No. Everything is in hand. I'll show you through." He leads the four of them in silence down the long hallway and into the ballroom. Twenty chairs have been arranged at one end of the room, facing the elaborate coffin that, with a jolt, Harry realises contains the youngest Malfoy's body. When Albus stumbles, Harry catches him and slips an arm around him, guiding him through. Only the wizard conducting the ceremony is there and he solemnly greets the Potters. Draco leaves them to it, to wait for the other attendees, and Harry sits down, Albus on one side of him and Lily on the other. Ginny sits down by Albus, too, and both adults take their children's hands.

By quarter to twelve, everyone has arrived, and at precisely midday, the service begins. The Ministry wizard does his part and then Albus gets to his feet. He shakes a little as he turns to face the others and his voice wavers. "Scorpius was my best friend. Things haven't been so easy for me but we met on our first journey to Hogwarts when we were eleven and we've stuck together ever since. He – he was the sweetest, kindest person I've ever known and he didn't deserve the horrible rumours people spread about him. Even when I wasn't as good a friend to him as I should have been, he stuck by me. What happened to him – it's not right. We should be at school right now; he should be telling me off for leaving my homework till the last minute but helping me with it anyway. I – I shouldn't be saying my final goodbye to him. Most people never realised what a wonderful person he was but I did and I'm proud to have been his friend." He turns towards the coffin and places a hand on it. "I – I'm going to miss you. Thank you for being my best friend." Only then does he break down, tears beginning to slip down his face as he stumbles back to his seat; Harry and Ginny promptly wrap him in their arms and Lily crouches down on the floor in front of him, one hand on his knee and unshed tears glimmering her eyes.

It is Draco's turn, and as Albus's sobs quieten, Draco takes a deep breath. When he speaks, his voice is steady and he stands tall. There is no emotion on his face or in his voice; Harry suspects that this is the only way he can get through this. "Scorpius was a wonderful son. He was always eager to learn everything he possibly could; I don't think I've ever known anyone with such a thirst for knowledge, except for perhaps Hermione Granger." There is a light chuckle among the others. "He wasn't always the happiest but he kept going even when the odds were against him, when he was shunned because of the mistakes I made. As Albus said, he was sweet and kind, and he was everything I hoped he would be. The day he was born was the happiest day of my life. Losing his mother to illness devastated him; she was such a good influence on him and he took after her a great deal. I was so pleased for him when he found a friend in Albus." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "I loved him very much and the world is a lot darker without him." On the last word, his voice cracks; he gives a brief nod and sits back down, staring straight ahead, rigidly upright and hands clasped together in his lap.

The ceremony concludes and Scorpius's coffin is borne out to the area of the Manor grounds where all Malfoys are buried; he is to lie next to his mother. A light drizzle is falling, which Harry thinks is fitting for the mood. Draco leads the procession, alone at the front of it.

When the burial is complete, the Ministry wizard gives the formal dismissal, and people begin to make their way inside. Albus lingers with Draco for a few minutes and then takes the arm of the last Malfoy, leading him back to the house. A house-elf has put out food for everyone, but Albus, not hungry, ignores it and sits down at the side of the room, staring at nothing in particular. There is a low hum of conversation and Draco has to deal with everyone expressing their sorrow to him. Harry holds back, not wanting to overwhelm him, and eventually people leave: first the Ministry wizard, then the Hogwarts staff, then McGonagall, and then Ron and Hermione, leaving just the Potters. Lily has already told Draco that she is very sorry and given him a hug, which he stiffly returned, so Ginny sends her home, to go back to Hogwarts the next day. Then Ginny approaches him. "Please let me know if there's anything we can do," she says. "I wish things had gone differently and I can't imagine what you're feeling right now, but we are here for you."

He nods. "Thank you."

She can't help noticing how strained he looks, the slight shake throughout his body, and she wonders if he has even cried yet, so she grabs Harry and Albus. "I think it's time we headed home."

Harry follows her gaze and can feel the tension radiating from Draco, so he sends Albus to say goodbye to Draco. The exchange is brief and Albus shakes Draco's hand before returning to his parents. Harry pats his son on the shoulder. "You two go ahead; I'll follow in a minute."

Ginny nods and leads Albus from the room to Floo home, casting a last look at Draco as she does so. Harry approaches Draco and stands in front of him; only now can he see just how tense and rigid the other man is. The deadness in his eyes has not dissipated and Harry's heart breaks for him. "How are you?"

"Do you really need to ask that?"

Harry mentally winces; it was a stupid question.

"After we lost Astoria, I let him down – Scorpius, I mean," says Draco. He has that same flat, dead tone that Harry noticed earlier. "I wasn't there for him like I should have been. She was my only light for so long. And then we had Scorpius. He's – he _was_ – so different from me in so many ways, and so like her. There was so much of her in him. He didn't deserve to be born into this family; he deserved a far better one, one like yours. When – when Astoria died, Scorpius was all I had left, the only thing keeping me going." He pauses. "And now he's gone. Harry, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to be alone for a while."

"Of course." Harry nods. "We're here for you, Draco; just let us know."

Draco nods briefly, then steps away to avoid any physical contact. "Goodbye, Harry."

"Goodbye, Draco." Harry gives the other man a sad smile before leaving the room.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

Several rooms – the significant ones – and one item retrieved from his study later, he sets out on the penultimate leg of his walk. His pace is slow now, as he lingers, allowing himself to remember, and he feels as though he is walking through treacle. The effort is almost too much, the memories overwhelming, but he forces himself to keep going until he reaches his son's bedroom. It is just as he left it on September first, heading off to Hogwarts for his fourth year, blissfully unaware of the events that would begin on that particular journey, events that would ultimately cost him his life. Everything is neat and tidy: the many books neatly organised on their shelves, the photos of the three of them, and of Scorpius and Albus, around the room, his desk, carefully set up for his return at Christmas – a return that would now not take place.

In the middle of the bed is Teddy, the now-worn and battered teddy bear Draco's parents gave Scorpius when he was born. He sits down on the bed and picks up Teddy, pressing him closely to himself as he breathes in the lingering scent of his son. Though the bear never went to Hogwarts – "Teddy won't like it there; there will be too many people and he likes the quiet" – Scorpius still curls – _curled –_ up with him at night during the holidays. Again the memories overwhelm him and Draco swallows the rising sobs, refusing to give in.

After a few minutes, he gets to his feet and, with one final look around the bedroom, he leaves with Teddy still in his grip, closing the door behind him, and departs for the final part of his walk. As he steps outside, a lone peacock lets out a shriek. He shivers – the birds' cries have always struck him as unbearably mournful, and he could never understand why his father liked them so much. The light drizzle that fell earlier has not stopped, but he is oblivious to it as he takes one heavy step after another through the grounds of the Manor, focusing only on his journey.

He does not stop until he reaches the family graveyard, his feet stilling only when he arrives between Astoria's grave and the newly-filled-in one that belongs to Scorpius. It shouldn't. He shouldn't be here, like this, only fourteen and already in the ground, never to emerge again. First he turns his attention to Astoria's grave, fresh, tastefully-arranged flowers on top of it. "I'm sorry I failed your son," he tells her. "Please forgive me."

And now for the hardest part. He steadies himself as he rests a hand on the newly-engraved marble headstone that indicates the youngest Malfoy. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you, Scorpius," he says, voice cracking and wavering. "I'm sorry I failed you."

He remains there for a moment before reaching into his pocket, pulling out the bottle there and uncorking it. "You were the only thing keeping me going. I did love you. I hope you knew that." A mere few drops of the potion will suffice, but he isn't taking any chances; Teddy held to his chest with one hand, he swallows the entire contents of the bottle. Immediately his body is on fire, as though hit by a dozen Cruciatus Curses all at once, but he grits his teeth and forces himself not to scream in agony as he feels his internal organs rupturing, burning, melting. Seconds later he crumples to the soft ground as he loses consciousness for the last time, leaving behind a world that has brought him little but pain. Soon he will be with Astoria and Scorpius again.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

At seven-thirty the following morning, Ginny and Harry are abruptly woken by a loud _crack_ in their bedroom. Harry sits bolt upright, feeling around for his glasses, while Ginny lights her wand; when Harry can see, he looks wildly around the room for the source of the noise until he spots the house-elf. He doesn't recognise her, but she is wringing her hands in her smart apron. "Mr Harry Potter, sir, you is awake?" she squeaks, her voice quavering.

Blinking, Harry nods. "I am now. What's going on?"

"Please, sir, I am Missy. My master is Draco Malfoy. Mr Potter must come with Missy immediately!"

Alarmed, Harry exchanges looks with his wife. "What's wrong?"

The elf hiccups, tears glistening in her large, bulbous eyes. "Missy went to wake Master Malfoy, but he was not in his room. Missy looked everywhere for Master Malfoy and when she finds him, he is not waking up. Missy did not know what to do so is thinking maybe Master's friends Mr and Mrs Potter could maybe be helping her."

A cold wave of fear crashes over Harry, momentarily paralysing him as his last conversation with Draco plays in his head. _Scorpius was all I had left, the only thing keeping me going…I think I'd like to be alone for a while…Goodbye._ Snapping into action, he scrambles out of bed as Ginny does the same and they both throw on their nearest clothes before he grabs his wand. "Missy, I need you to take me to Draco. _Now_. Ginny, tell the kids what's going on."

Ginny is already halfway out of the bedroom door as Missy, holding onto Harry, Disapparates. They arrive in the damp, drizzle-covered grounds of the Manor, at the spot where Harry stood only yesterday, by the newly-filled-in grave of Scorpius, his son's best and only real friend. Now he notices the meticulously-arranged flowers on the grave next to it, the marble headstone marking it as Astoria's.

But it is the sight of the figure between the two graves that causes Harry to stumble: on the ground, curled up and on his side, still in his clothes from the previous day and white-blond hair still tidily braided, is Draco. His eyes are shut and he is completely colourless. There is a thin trickle of drying – or possibly dried – blood coming from one corner of his mouth and one hand is wrapped around an empty potion bottle. The other clutches an old, battered teddy bear to his chest. Instinct kicks in and Harry drops down beside the unmoving figure, struggling to keep his breathing steady. The other man's lips are slightly blue. "Draco? Draco, can you hear me?" When that fails to elicit a response, Harry reaches for his neck under the high-collared black clothing, hoping that his suspicions will prove false.

There is no pulse. Draco is cold. As cold as the headstones marking the graves of his wife and son.

 _Scorpius was all I had left, the only thing keeping me going._

Harry extracts the potion bottle from Draco's grasp and cautiously sniffs it. Twenty years of being an Auror means he can identify the potion from its smell alone – Hellfire, a powerful poison that, with just a few drops, burns and melts a person's internal organs, causing an agonising death within a few minutes; survivors have reported the pain to be on the same level as the Cruciatus Curse. It's illegal (though the individual ingredients are not), but skilled potioneers are able to make it without much difficulty, and Harry knows that Draco had the ability.

And, he realises, the motivation. What happened here is heartbreakingly apparent and as Draco's words from the previous day echo around his head, he feels sick – the other man came as close as was possible for him to telling Harry that he had nothing left to live for, to telling Harry what he planned to do. That he planned to end his own life. And Harry, true to form, failed to pick up on it, could have prevented this if only he had listened properly.

Hands shaking, he places the bottle down on the floor, takes a deep breath and calls for Missy. When she appears, he sends her to bring Ginny and a moment later, the house-elf returns with his wife. "Harry?" asks Ginny uncertainly, slowly approaching him.

Harry raises his head to look at her, tears in his eyes. "He – he tried to tell me, Gin. He tried to tell me he was planning this. But I didn't realise…"

"What did he say?"

"That Scorpius had been the only thing keeping him going. I should have picked up on it, should have insisted on staying with him!"

Ginny crouches down beside him, her hand on his shoulder. "You wouldn't have been able to stop him. He would have found a way whatever you did. At least –" Her breath catches in her throat "– at least they're together again." But her words ring hollow as they gaze, devastated, at the lifeless form in front of them, at the end of the Malfoy line.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

 **~fin~**

I can't believe I actually killed them both off; I feel horrible! But the idea of what would happen if they didn't all make it out okay wouldn't go away so it became this fic. A number of tears may or may not have been shed during the writing and editing of this fic.


End file.
